


A Box of Puppies

by Velocipastor



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Puppies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-06
Updated: 2013-11-06
Packaged: 2017-12-31 15:28:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1033303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Velocipastor/pseuds/Velocipastor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after s8 finale, AU before s9e1. Sam is slowly recovering from the trials in the bunker. Dean and Castiel dump a box of puppies on his lap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Box of Puppies

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on a post I saw on Tumblr about Dean and Cas dumping a box of puppies on Sam's lap to cheer him up after the trials. :D

Sam’s eyes gaze unseeingly at the ceiling, mind blissfully blank for the first time since the trials had started. The angels are fallen and Castiel is quite human, but he has trouble caring too much at that moment; Dean is safe and Sam himself is alive, despite how unexpectedly, and that kind of relief isn’t something he can ignore.

Sam shifts in the bed and hisses reflexively at the sharp, needle-like pinpricks of pain that lance through what feels like his entire being. It dulls to a low throb after a minute or two, but it’s enough. Sam sighs exhaustedly as he heaves himself into a sitting position. Doing nothing after doing everything is a little hard to swallow, makes him feel useless, but he doesn’t have much of a choice. Dean watches him like a hawk except for the rare and short times (like now) he isn’t around.

It isn’t a bad thing, exactly – Dean cares, loves him after everything he’s done and let him down, still thinks the sun shines out his ass and puts him above all else. It leaves a warm glow in his chest, that knowledge, and it’s as the smile is crossing his face that Dean and Castiel burst into the room with giant identical grins and a cardboard box.

There is some kind of rustling against the inner sides. Sam catches himself torn between amusement and confusion at the childlike glee and pride the two men are all but bursting with. He quirks an eyebrow and opens his mouth to ask, but Dean is thrusting the box into his arms while giving voice to a high-pitched yip—

Wait, what?

The box is upended and four fuzzy, warm, and squirming little bodies are dumped into his lap. The excited yipping is in full force as the puppies jump and crawl and sniff and whine and generally overwhelm Sam, standing on their hind legs with tiny tails going a million miles an hour to lick and nip Sam’s face despite his surprised spluttering. Dean watches his tired face morph into something he hasn’t seen in a long time; that heart-wrenching grin with irresistible dimples, his eyes lighting up in excitement, fairly radiating an untarnished joy and genuine elatedness as large hands flit over each wriggling puppy, as if unable to decide who to pet first and where. Sam knows every dog loves a good scratching on their back, but few things can beat a gentle ear rub or a relaxing chin scratch.

Sam, the big sap, settles for scooping all four of them up and cradling them against his chest with a fervent gentleness Dean thought Hell had wiped from him. It figures all he needed was some puppy kisses.

“They are adorable, aren’t they?” Cas grins unabashedly. Sam opens his mouth to attempt agreement, but one of the puppies – brown with brindled spots – sticks his nose in his mouth to sniff. Sam jerks his head back fast enough to nail it on the headboard.

“Ow!” he says instead.

Dean laughs openly. “Sammy, Sammy, Sammy,” he chides teasingly, “don’t do that, it hurts.” Sam shoots him a withering look that instantaneously melts into a silly, adoring grin as the little black and gray puppy licks his nose and barks happily. She nuzzles into the comfy spot between his neck and shoulder and lets out an exaggerated puppy huff of contentment.

“Where’d you find them?” Sam asks softly, gazing at the furry warmth. He winces as the pure white boy nips the tip of his nose. “Ow.”

“They were behind the church. Dean said you would love them because they are adorable.” Castiel answers, earning himself a disgruntled look from Dean. Sam’s grin just grows wider, even as the last little girl, black and tan, hops on a bruise.

“Thank you.” he whispers, and Dean sits on the bed next to him to reach out and scritch the white puppy on the head.

“Anything, Sam.” he replies softly, letting the two words carry all the meaning. Sam rests comfortably next to him; he understands.


End file.
